


TERRACE HOUSE

by wheezemadejaway



Series: Worth It: Japan Trip 2017 [6]
Category: Buzzfeed - Worth It, Buzzfeed Worth It, Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Confessions, Friendly intervention, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 08:38:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12767190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheezemadejaway/pseuds/wheezemadejaway
Summary: Instinct tells her that the coffee's not the reason that the two of them are acting strangely. She’d noticed it from the moment she picked them up from their hotel the previous morning. She feels it in her gut. Something’s happened between Steven and Andrew.





	TERRACE HOUSE

**Author's Note:**

> There really is a guesthouse close to Osaka Castle called TERRACE HOUSE. I haven't stayed there.
> 
> This story the sixth part in the "Japan Trip 2017" series. If you have not read it yet, please start with [Two Stops Until Shinjuku](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12424176), then continue on with [Ippakume (First Night)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12460257), [Rie, How Do You Say 'Get Your Shit Together' In Japanese?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12493776), [Nihakume (Second Night)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12602628), [and Coming to Osaka](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12638088).
> 
> Unbeta-ed at this time, but I am impatient.

Rie’s still patting at her damp hair as she walks up the stairs and into the common area. She’s just finished up in the women’s bath, comfortable and cool in the lightweight pink cotton pajamas that were provided at check-in, house slippers on her otherwise bare feet.

It’s been years since she stayed at a guesthouse, but she’s enjoying revisiting her glory days of traveling on a shoestring budget.

Admittedly, she had been skeptical when Steven had booked this place just because of it’s name: “TERRACE HOUSE.” Even though this place is in no way affiliated with the television show, Steven had insisted. Why _Terrace House_ is so popular with so many of the American Buzzfeed crowd is beyond Rie, because honestly it’s pretty cheesy, and not in a way that she can particularly appreciate.

Fortunately, like the television show, the guesthouse is actually remarkably clean and well maintained.

Rie bounces up the last couple of steps, energized. Her face lights up as she enters the common area.

 _Speak of the devil_ , she smiles and lets the the towel she’s been using to dry her hair drop back onto her shoulders. Steven is there, seated in one of the chairs that’s been grouped into a cluster in the center of the space. He’s staring down into his phone and does not notice her arrival even as she comes to a stop right in front of him.

Rie double-checks the time on a clock on the wall, then glances back to Steven. It’s closer to midnight than she realized. He should definitely be getting ready for bed.

Adopting a quiet, motherly tone as not to startle him, Rie says, “It’s pretty late. You’re still out here?”

Steven jumps anyway, nearly dropping his phone, but when he sees it’s only her, he lets out a relieved sigh and tries to recompose himself. “Uh, yeah, hey Rie.” He locks his screen and adjusts his posture, sliding deeper into his chair.

“You’re not sleepy? You look sleepy.”

Steven’s avoiding her eyes. He looks to the window, but the curtains have been drawn. “I, uh, well…I think it’s that coffee.”

They’d drank the barrel-aged coffee this evening, and even though Rie didn’t feel any different than normal, both Steven and Andrew claimed that it made them feel drunk and lightheaded, like a strong wine.

Instinct tells her that it’s not the reason that the two of them are acting strangely. She’d noticed it from the moment she picked them up from their hotel the previous morning. She feels it in her gut. Something’s happened between Steven and Andrew, and she’s guessing it has to do with the way they’d been all over each other two nights before.

So she shakes her head. “No, I don’t think it’s the coffee. Is this about Andrew?”

Immediately, Steven’s face begins to redden.

“What? Rie! No--” he sputters, putting up his hand defensively, expression distorting into an open-mouthed frown.

But Rie’s not about to let it drop. “It’s about Andrew.”

“It’s not about Andrew.”

Rie sinks into the chair next to his, getting on his level. “Okay. Then it’s about _you_ and Andrew.”

“I--I--” Steven’s caught. His blush spreads all the way down his neck. 

“Whatever it is,” Rie reaches over and places an affirming hand on his shoulder. “You should talk to him. I think he wants to talk to you, too.”

Steven finally looks at her, pursing his lips and swishing his mouth around as if he’s grappling with what to say. He blinks and Rie squeezes his shoulder before dropping her hand to rest lightly on his forearm.

“But… what if it’s too big to talk about?”

Success!

Rie pats at his forearm sympathetically, tilting her head. “Well, you can just start with saying ‘I’m sorry.’ That works for me when I get into a fight.” 

“Well, uh, we didn’t really have a _fight_ fight,” Steven says, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Oh,” she returns, but her exclamation lacks surprise. She’s had plenty of her own run-ins with the uncertainties of love. Whatever happened, she’s fairly sure that it means more to Steven and Andrew than just one night. “That doesn’t really matter. Maybe it is just about how you acted in a situation. Or how you didn’t act.”

“What if, hypothetically,” Steven’s eyes are wide, brow creased. He sits back up a bit, back straight, shoulders tight. “You both, er, did, something you probably shouldn’t have? And, er, it was probably going to, uh, happen, I mean, like, eventually, but, like, or like, you wanted it to happen, like, you wanted it to happen _a lot_ , but maybe it was too soon? And now you can’t go back?”

Rie follows him as he speaks, letting him finish and silence land between them before she replies.

“Sometimes you can make the right choices at the wrong time. But they’re still the right choices.”

Steven’s expression wavers. He exhales a little, but his posture does not loosen.

“Steven,” Rie is watching him closely. He looks so tired. “There are times when,” she pauses, considering briefly about how to structure her thought. She wants him to understand her. “Sometimes, no matter what choice you make, someone will be unhappy with you. What matters most is that you make the best decision for you. That person maybe will forgive you. They maybe won’t. But in the end, you also deserve to live your life. It can be very difficult to put yourself first, I know. You are kind. You don’t want to upset anyone.”

“I don’t,” Steven agrees.

“You have to be you. Don’t sacrifice who you are for other people. In the end, no one will benefit. Not even that person you were trying to make happy. They will know.”

Steven swallows, bowing his head.

“They will?”

“I think so. Or they will know something is not right.”

Fingers drumming gently at his forearm, Rie scoots closer to him, searching out his eyes again. She wants him to see her face, see that she means what she’s saying, and what she’s going to tell him next. When he finally looks at her, his eyes are glassy.

“Steven. If you like him, don’t hold back.”

She smiles as she nods because Steven’s slowly nodding along with her.

  


***

 

Their “TERRACE HOUSE” room consists of four beds situated in two bunks. It’s cramped and it’s reminiscent of fifth grade Boy Scout Camp, but it’s comfortable enough. Or it would be if the atmosphere wasn’t so thick with awkwardness.

Adam’s curled into his mattress with his hands draped over his stomach, looking across the way at Steven’s empty bunk. He’s changed into his hotel-issued pajamas, ready for bed, but the lights are still on, and he really doesn’t feel like crawling down a ladder to turn them off.

“Andrew,” he says, and then has to repeat himself, a bit more loudly, “ _An_ drew.”

From the bunk beneath him, Andrew stirs. He definitely hadn’t been asleep, Adam knows this, but Andrew hasn’t been acting like he’s particularly awake, either. He’s been this way all day, and if Adam wants to get technical, he’s been this way since the previous morning at R.O.Star.

“Yeah?” Andrew’s voice is deep, distracted.

Adam was going to ask Andrew to turn the lights out, but he realizes that this may be his only good chance to talk, now that Steven’s not around. Maybe they can actually have a conversation about what the heck is going on.

“Is everything… okay?” Adam asks. He can’t see Andrew, but he listens carefully to the sharp hitch in Andrew’s breath, and the laugh that’s probably supposed to come off as amused but doesn’t deliver.

“What? Yeah. Yeah. Everything’s fine? Why?”

“I don’t know, you seem a bit out of it, to be honest.” Adam says it with his usual nonchalant attitude, but he’d really like to stop tip-toeing around and get right to the root of the problem.

Andrew’s not going to make it that simple, though. Of course he’s not. “Huh. Must be jetlag.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think it is.” Adam says decisively. He so rarely calls anyone out, but he needs answers. “What’s up with you and Steven?”

“Me and Steven?”

Scratching at his beard, Adam stares up at the ceiling. “Yeah.”

“Uh…”

“Is there something that I need to know about going on between the two of you? Because I feel like there is.”

It’s quiet for a good long moment, so good and so long that Adam doesn’t think that Andrew’s going to respond, but finally Andrew coughs. “We, uh, stuff kind of, you know, happened, except, like…”

Yep. There’s the admission. He _knew_ it. “Steven’s had second thoughts?”

“Not… exactly…”

“ _You_ did?” That’s a bit of a surprise, Adam has to admit.

“Well. I just. I thought. You know, the timing might be wrong.” Andrew’s voice is monotonous but not unaffected. There’s a hint of anxiety between those syllables, too.

“Timing,” Adam muses. “You wait around too long for the stars to align and instead one implodes and everything gets sucked into a black hole.”

There’s another pause, and then an amused laugh from below. “W-what?”

“Sometimes you just gotta shit or get off the pot, Andrew.”

“So… your advice to me is…?”

“I can’t believe I am telling you this, but: just go for it. And please, please, please, do not mess up the show. It’s my baby, too.”

Andrew’s reply is lost as the door swings open and Steven’s standing there, embarrassed and flustered, and like he has maybe been crying.

“Hey, Steven,” Adam gestures.

“Hey, Adam,” Steven answers back. “Andrew? You, uh, got a minute?”

The bunk bed creaks, and Andrew is up and next to Steven so quickly Adam barely has time to process Andrew’s words as he makes a beeline for the door. “Adam, you want the lights off?”

“Y-yeah, thanks.”

Steven catches his eye for just a moment, and the lights go out at nearly the same time as the door closes.

Adam’s left alone in the room.

They can’t really expect he’s going to get any rest after a dramatic exit like that, can they?

Oh well, he’d better try. One of them has to be responsible for how well shooting goes tomorrow.  



End file.
